A year ago today, they transferred two beautiful embryos into me. As we move through the month of June, I’m surprised by the emotions still attached to certain dates associated with my first IVF: the date we flew into the city, the day I began the needles, my retrieval, and transfer… I was naively positive that it would work. To an extent, it did; it resulted in a BFP, but not a baby I would ever hold.
We had our follow-up with my RE (via conference call). I appreciated his honesty; he recognizes the added effort and expense we have from flying out from the middle of nowhere, taking a month leave from work, and finding a short-term rental suite etc… He advised not pursuing IVF, as it’s too difficult logistically and given the chances with my ovarian reserves…? It would be a different situation if we lived closer, and had access to labs to better monitor me prior to a treatment. Anyways, I didn’t hear anything I didn’t expect.
It’s been a bit of a hard week. I heard from my co-worker … she had to terminate her pregnancy. She still sounded positive in her email and was looking to the future (she’s still so young). But it’s so easy to seem positive online, doesn’t it? I hope she’s well and they’re taking good care of her.